


Day 1

by Summerwolf



Series: Whumptober 2019 [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hurt Peter, Protective Tony Stark, Stabbing, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019, Worried Tony Stark, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 21:04:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20841983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Summerwolf/pseuds/Summerwolf
Summary: 1. Shaky Hands.Peter stared down in horror as his hands shook. He knew what was happening, had been warned about it many times and had even been told what to do if it ever happened.





	Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone who decided to click on this work!!  
I don't quite know why i decided to do whumptober, but here i am and here is prompt one!!  
ENJOY!!

1\. Shaky Hands.

Peter stared down in horror as his hands shook. He knew what was happening, had been warned about it many times and had even been told what to do if it ever happened.

He could feel his mind going blank, everything he had ever been taught about how to be an Avenger going straight out the window.

He felt his legs give way beneath him as he crumbled into a Spiderman shaped pile on the rough ground of the roof.

How did he get up here? Why here? Why? Why? Why?

He could hear Karen. She was saying something, she sounded worried, but Peter couldn't make out her words. It sounded important but he was too tired to listen. He carefully put a hand against his side, pressing against the hole in his suit. It came away damp and red with blood.

He wanted - no - he needed to talk. Needed to yell or scream or tell Karen to call up Mr Stark. Sitting here he was just waiting for death. Waiting to bleed out or die from the winter chill - whichever came first.

His throat was fuzzy and his tounge limp as he tried to make words. All that came out were muffled moans, not even enough for Karen to register.

How long ago had he been stabbed?

He could remember the masked man and his sinister smile. He could remember a fight and the man's taunting voice - what the man was saying escaped him. He could remember the slippery, slick, cold feel as the knife slid into his side. He remembered the man grabbing it back, saying something along the lines of "I'm going to need that back." But after that, no more.

After that just darkness and finally coming back to his senses on top of this roof.

Was this where he was stabbed? He would have to assume so, he couldn't imagine managing to move far in this condition.

He looked around slowly - if only he could get his bearings - but his vision was just fuzz and his mind wasn't much better. The chances of him finding his way to safety was slim.

The notices of the city washed over him. Maybe he had been missing long enough for Mr Stark to get notified, maybe Karen had informed him about Peter's questionable vitals and he was already on his way here.

Peter knew that it was truly his only hope.

Maybe if he could send out a distress signal - find a way to tell Mr Stark to hurry - then he might be ok.

Did he have anything with that kind of system. Well, this was Tony - of course he did - but did he have anything within reach, anything he could set off even like this.

He has his suit, obviously, but he can't speak for the voice commands and he can't think straight enough to remember what the protocol for this was. Does Karen message Mr Stark as soon as things get weird or does she wait a bit. Will Tony be already heading in his direction?

How long has he been up here? Time seems screwed. He can't tell if it's been a second, a minute or an hour. All he can tell us pain.

He has his watch, its over the top of his suit, but he can't gather enough strength to look at it. He knows that if he can just move his hand, there is a panic button on the side. If Tony received that he would know there was something wrong. He tries, he really does, but all he can manage is a small wrist twitch, nowhere near enough to set off his panic button.

He can feel the darkness creeping in around the edges. Little spots, starting in the very corners of his vision, and then growing. Growing like they have a life of their own as they grow and move and block out the sky, one spot at a time.

His eyes start to slip closed, he tries to fight. He knows that once he closes them, he may never open them again. He may never wake up if he lets himself sleep. But he is so tired. So so tired. All he can think off is sleep.

Sleep would take away all his pain.

Why doesn't he want to fall asleep again?

He lets his eyes slowly drift closed. He can feel sleep clawing its way up, fighting a battle with wakefulness and Peter honestly doesn't know which will win.

Now that his sight is gone, all his other sense's flair into life. He can smell the crisp winter air as it burns his nose as he breathes. He can taste the coppery, metallic taste of blood as it bubbles up his throat. He can feel the roof digging into his back, grounding him into reality even as he sleeps away. He can hear the distant buzz of the city and something else. Something buzzing, distant, familiar. Karen is talking again, he still can't make her out, but he can hear another voice. It's deeper and he wished he could hear it properly. It sounds worried, he wants to help it.

But more than all that. He can feel pain. Sharp, stabbing pain which fills his entire being and makes him want to scream.

The pain makes the decision for him. Tips it right out of his hands and slits in his face as it does so. Darkness comes.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

** _Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._ **

An annoying beeping is what awakens Peter from his slumber. Pulling him into wakefulness with its insistent beeping and annoying pitch.

He wonders if it's his alarm, but he's had the same tune programmed for the last few years and this isn't it.

He peels his eyes open, with more difficulty than he expected, and instantly slams them shut again.

Who left the light on! It was one of those glaring lights, the kind which burned your eyes and were worse than looking at the sun.

It was one of those lights that you find in offices, schools and hospitals. So why was one here?

He clearly wasn't in an office and he really hoped he wasn't at school. So that left hospital. Was he in a hospital? Why would he be in a hospital?

He cast his mind's eye back, how had he ended up (probably) in a hospital?

He could remember going out in patrol and then…. Oh yeah. Getting stabbed. Bleeding out on a rooftop. Right. Well. He didn't appear to be dead so that was one plus.

He carefully forced his eyes open once more, he needed to be sure that he was alive. That his identity was safe.

He looked around slowly. He appeared to be in the med bay? The med bay at the avengers compound. That was good. It meant his identity was probably still secret, he had been picked up before anyone could find him and before he could die. That was pretty neat actually.

Just then, he heard the click of a door opening and the unmistakable steps of Dr Banner walking into the room.

As soon as Bruce noticed he was awake, a large smile appears on his face "hey Peter, how are you feeling."

"Good actually. How long have I been out?"

"Only since yesterday. You're lucky you have super healing, or you would almost definitely be dead by now. I'll just do my rounds and then send Tony in."

Peter nodded in agreement as Bruce checked his vitals ect.

He was getting the feeling that Tony may have been the one to save him, if his hunch was right then he has a lot to thank him for.

"Ok. That's all done. I'll go tell the others you are awake." Bruce smiled again as he walked out and Peter was suddenly struck by the fact Bruce looked like he had been worried. The avengers had been worried about him!

He didn't have much time to dwell on that, before the doors crashed open and Mr Stark walked in. At first glance he seemed fine. The cool collected self he always was. But then Peter noticed his hair - messy from hands being dragged through it - his eyes - dark circles from not sleeping and dim with worry - his clothes - rumpled like he had been sitting on a chair for the last however long - and Peter knew he was not fine.

"Mr Stark." He said, hoping that if Tony could talk to him, maybe it would ease out the worried lines firming between his brows.

"Peter." Tony says quietly, almost like he's shocked that Peter is ok, but is very glad about it. It physically hurts Peter, Tony's always been the strong one, the one who never cracks, and here he was looking like he's about to cry.

Tony's hands were shaking so Peter lent forwards to grab them. "I'm ok Mr Stark. You saved me. I'm ok."

If anything, that only made Tony look even closer to tears as he reached out and pulled Peter into a tight hug.

"But I nearly didn't. You nearly died, and that would have been on me."

Peter knew nothing good was happening, definitely not anything to be happy about, but he was. The avengers cared about him. Tony cared about him. And anyway, there is a certain high you get from narrowly avoiding death, isn't there.

Bruce nipped in a few minutes later and told Peter he had to stay on bed rest. Over the next couple of hours, every Avenger came to see him, but Tony didn't leave his side once.

The end of the day found them both on the bed, Tony gently running his hands through Peter's hair. Peter could practically hear the thoughts running through Tony's head, probably plans to improve the suit and stop this from ever happening again.

"You think too loud." He grumbled tiredly, causing Tony to chuckle.

"Go to sleep kid." Peter wanted to argue, say that he wasn't that young, he didn't need a bed time, but he was tired and sleep sounded perfect.

The next morning, Peter woke to find Tony still there, sleeping deeply.

Peter was very glad he had managed not to die. He felt safe, warm and his hands were no longer shaking. Everything was good.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!!
> 
> Have an amazing day/night!


End file.
